The puce-clad woman across from him shuddered. “The Bennet women are a dreadful lot. The mother comes from trade, you know, and it shows in her daughters.”
The weight of worry pulled down the corners of Darcy’s mouth. He looked to Georgiana but she simply stared at the twined fingers in her lap, giving no indication she listened.
Bingley cast his sister a confused look. “Nonsense. Miss Bennet is everything lovely.”
“Miss Bennet may be, but the remainder of them are simply hideous.” Miss Bingley wrinkled her nose. “I would never condescend to call on them were society hereabouts not so limited.”
Georgiana raised worried eyes.
“When I met Miss Elizabeth in Meryton, and when I happened upon her while out riding this morning, she seemed perfectly mannered.” Yet had she not called her own wordsimpertinent? Then, Darcy’s had been as well, asking her to call him Fitzwilliam.
Foolish, he knew. No matter what Miss Bingley said, in Miss Elizabeth, Darcy read eloquence and reason. If ever she learned the truth, she would not appreciate being, in essence, tricked into addressing him by his Christian name. His only excuse was that he had been unable to endure those bow-like lips even once more addressing him as another man.
“There you have it,” Bingley was saying. “If D—Ah, if the colonel approves of Miss Elizabeth’s manners, they must be acceptable.”
Expression turning to pity, Miss Bingley shook her head. “How naive you both are. You truly believe that Miss Elizabeth strode Netherfield Park’s lands at that early hour by chance? She obviously plotted to encounter at least one of the gentlemen of our party, so she could smile prettily and issue just such an invitation as you have accepted.”
Georgiana turned wide eyes from Miss Bingley to him. Darcy shook his head, half in denial that Miss Elizabeth could be so mercenary and half to reassure his sister.
“Impossible,” Bingley declared. “Such a plan would hinge too much on chance.”
“Would it?” Miss Bingley turned her scorn on him. “For all we know, she has wandered about the land you are leasing every morning since our arrival. You gentlemen simply do not comprehend the convoluted plots some women will undertake when it comes to securing the man they desire. Do you not agree, Miss Darcy?”
Georgiana’s features squeezed tight, clenching Darcy’s heart with them, and she dropped her gaze back to her lap.
“You would paint every woman as so conniving and unworthy?” Bingley asked, incredulous.
“I would, and if you do not, you will end up with one who is.”
“I cannot believe…”
As the siblings bickered on, Darcy trained his attention out the window, once more taking in the small market town of Meryton when they passed through. Perhaps Miss Bingley was correct about this call being an unfortunate idea of his, though more for her presence than due to the Bennets.
They reached Longbourn to neatly stacked walls and roadways unpitted by ill-repair. The hedges and copses they passed were a shade less well tamed than Darcy would have allowed in Pemberley, but grew neat enough. When they reached it, the manor house loomed tall, having no shortage of windows, and a raked drive and swept stoop. Overall, nothing to find fault with, though Darcy would have replaced the old, pitted carriage block with new stone, and seen the faded shutters repainted annually.
They were welcomed into an entrance hall he would generously call cozy, and then shown into a parlor that seemed already full to the brim with women. He and Georgiana were introduced to a matronly Mrs. Bennet, a willowy Miss Jane Bennet, a reserved Miss Mary, a somewhat scrawny Miss Kitty, and a bright-eyed and tall Miss Lydia. Darcy could not help but note that while none had looks to turn away a suitor, the eldest and youngest both possessed the stature and fairness that most gentlemen seemed to desire.
His gaze strayed to Miss Elizabeth, only to find that she studied his sister.
“Now, Miss Darcy,” Miss Bingley said the moment introductions completed. “I know you are still tired from your journey here, so you must sit between Charles and I, where we can carry the conversation for you.”
“Oh no, we cannot have that.” A sharp gesture from Mrs. Bennet brought Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia forward. “I am certain Miss Darcy prefers to sit with girls her own age.”
Lips pursing, Miss Bingley stepped nearer to Georgiana.
“And certainly you prefer to sit over there with the colonel,” Mrs. Bennet continued to Miss Bingley, with a gesture to a long sofa. “A fine gentleman such as he cannot fail to be an engaging conversationalist.”
Miss Bingley turned to him, her solicitousness of Georgiana easily replaced by her delight at the opportunity to sit by his side. Over her head, Darcy took in Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia walking his sister across the room to the opposite sofa. Georgiana kept her gaze on the carpet. Worry stirred in his gut.
Mrs. Bennet frowned at the three, glanced between Miss Elizabeth and Miss Mary, grimaced, and said flatly, “Elizabeth, why do you not join Colonel Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley?”
Miss Elizabeth nodded, her attention on her two youngest sisters and Georgiana, a slight line marring her brow.
“And Mary, you will sit with me,” Mrs. Bennet continued with bright satisfaction. “I imagine that means that you and Jane must sit together there, Mr. Bingley.” A meaty hand indicated a smaller settee that would barely hold two. “And I will call for tea.”
While the Bennet matron crossed to the parlor door, Miss Bingley looped her arm through Darcy’s. She gave a slight tug in the direction of the recommended sofa. Darcy ignored her, trying to ascertain if his sister appeared any paler or more drawn than usual as she settled between Miss Kitty and Miss Lydia.
Miss Lydia leaned in, saying something too quiet for Darcy to hear. Georgiana’s eyes flew wide. Miss Kitty giggled.
